


Over and Out

by tuesday



Category: Pundit RPF (US)
Genre: Community: lgbtfest, LGBTQ Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-04-13
Updated: 2009-04-13
Packaged: 2017-10-07 17:36:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/67523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tuesday/pseuds/tuesday
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Of all Jon's false assumptions, he never expected Jeff Larson to top the list.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Over and Out

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much to [](http://sirdrakesheir.livejournal.com/profile)[**sirdrakesheir**](http://sirdrakesheir.livejournal.com/) for the beta, and to [](http://charlie-d-blue.livejournal.com/profile)[**charlie_d_blue**](http://charlie-d-blue.livejournal.com/) for the pre-read and cheerleading. Sorry for this being a couple minutes late in my timezone as I absentmindedly filled out the posting form!

On Jon's fourteenth birthday, he kissed Jeff Larson, or perhaps for the sake of clarity, Jon should say that Jeff kissed him. It was open-mouthed and wet and Jeff used far too much tongue, overly enthusiastic, like he thought this would be his only chance and he wanted to cram as much as he could into the moment.

"Anything?" Jeff asked after he finally pulled away.

"Nothing," Jon said apologetically.

And that was it. Jeff slunk sheepishly out of Jon's life, and Jon let him go because he was in high school and embarrassed and kind of relieved. Never mind any concerns Jon may have had about being different in another way, it turned out he was straight.

\--

Then Jon kissed Stephen Colbert, just joking around, and hey. Turned out he wasn't so straight after all.

\--

Stephen's lips had been soft, curved into a welcoming smile, and after his initial startled laugh, he'd pulled Jon in, one hand curling gently against the back of Jon's neck. Everywhere his skin touched Jon's, Jon's skin tingled with pleasure, anticipation.

Jon had the time to briefly think, _The joke's on me._ Then, _Shit._

When he pulled away, Stephen laughed again and said, "You really didn't expect me to play along?"

With all the practice of hosting a television show for years, Jon easily shifted his expression from surprise to rueful amusement. "I really should know better by now."

The surprise Jon _felt_, though--that would take a lot longer to fade.

\--

"I like men." Like high school all over again, it took several runs practicing in the mirror before it could come out as something closer to mundane, and even still, it came out sounding weird.

Tracey took it much better than Jon did.

"Sure, and you're leaving me to marry Stephen Colbert in a fan-attended Boston wedding," Tracey said, pulling a jug of milk and a package of turkey from the refrigerator to place by the bread and lettuce already on the counter.

Well, she took it better than Jon had once she finally believed he wasn't joking. That took a few minutes of explaining that no, it was not a show thing, no, it was not a script, and no, it was not a joke. Jon was speaking about _himself_. This took roughly the time it took Tracey to make her sandwich and pour herself a glass of milk.

"It's not an early mid-life crisis?" Tracey asked, voice nothing but sympathetic.

"No."

Tracey handed Jon the plate with the sandwich and edged the glass of milk along the counter to rest in front of Jon.

"You look like you need them more than I do," Tracey said.

"So your solution is to feed me?" Jon asked, but he took a bite. Who was he to say no to a turkey sandwich?

"You don't need fixing, Jon." Tracey rubbed a hand against the back of Jon's shoulder. "At least, not for being bisexual."

She stared pointedly at Jon's scattering crumbs onto the kitchen floor. Jon smiled briefly and grabbed the plate and glass, then moved to the kitchen table. Tracey started a second sandwich for herself.

It was oddly comforting, eating the turkey sandwich and watching Tracey make a second one, then replace everything in the refrigerator. Jon's self-knowledge may have shifted somewhat, but he still liked sandwiches and he still liked Tracey. Tracey joined him at the table, bumping their shoulders together and smiling at him until he smiled back.

"You know," Tracey said as Jon swallowed the last bite, "the kids are supposed to be at the sitter's for another hour yet."

In many ways (many good ways), Jon's world hadn't changed much at all.

\--

Later, it occurred to Jon that he had no idea whether this was something he wanted to keep to himself and his family. This wasn't even to the level of wondering if/when he should add himself to the tiny pantheon of out celebrities--never before had Jon thought he might join the same ranks as Lindsay Lohan--because that level of scrutiny was something Jon didn't want to even begin contemplating yet. It was wondering how to go about the awkward conversation of coming out after years of friendship.

("You know all those insinuations we've made on TV about me and Colbert and other men in general, and how you thought they were just jokes? Surprise!")

In the end, he decided that he'd had stranger conversations with most of his friends--Jon had kissed Stephen and no one had blinked, though they had gotten a couple of catcalls when Stephen had slapped Jon's ass on the way out of the apartment--and it would be a good test run for when--if--well.

And hey, even with the decision made, Jon still had plenty of time to chicken out. Jon's closest friends were busy people, and most of them he'd already seen within the last week. It wasn't like he was going to have the chance for any sort of in-depth conversation with anyone for a while yet.

Then Stephen decided out of the blue to kidnap Jon for dinner, because proving Jon wrong was something Stephen lived to do.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Stephen said, "but I can play along if you pick up the tab this time."

"You only love me for my money," Jon said.

"Exactly," Stephen said.

"Just for that, we're eating at Taco Bell."

Stephen drove, so they ended up at a nice restaurant with table cloths and quiet music. "Are you trying to tell me something?" Jon asked after they were seated.

"That you are going to buy me delicious steak," Stephen said, scanning his menu. The server came over for their drinks, and Stephen said, "I will have one of everything."

"Sure, me, too," Jon said. He gestured at Stephen. "Just so you know, he'll be footing the bill."

Stephen kicked Jon under the table, and Jon jumped, but kept smiling, unrepentant. The server looked at them like maybe they were crazy, but what the hell, she might as well write it down anyway.

Before she could actually order the entire menu for them, Jon interrupted to say, "Just water to start. We're still looking over the menu."

"Take your time," the server said, putting her pen away and warily withdrawing to check on another table.

"So," Jon said, looking pointedly around the restaurant. "Any particular reason for here?"

"I'm breaking up with you," Stephen said, putting his menu down, "and I didn't want you to cause a scene."

"I welcome the opportunity for an audience," Jon said.

"In all seriousness, Evie is on some sort of new macrobiotic diet," Stephen said, "and I really do want just a steak and some mashed potatoes."

"Does she know you're here?" Jon asked.

"She knows," Stephen said, "but like many wives with cheating husbands, she won't confront me until she has proof."

"Does this mean I get your leftovers for once?" Jon asked, grin wicked.

"Hey! I have some viewers you don't. For instance, I have a small, but loyal section of Republicans."

"You know what else they watch? Fox News."

They squabbled lightheartedly about viewership for a while, and Jon copied Stephen's order of steak and mashed potatoes when the server returned, though he added a side of green beans to his order.

"That leaves less room for dessert," Stephen said.

"But at least I won't die of malnutrition."

"You know who dies of malnutrition?" Stephen asked, then quickly replied to his own question, voice full of the conviction that he'd won: "Pirates."

Jon laughed. As usual with Stephen, their conversation was an easy dance of jokes, with the occasional foray into more serious topics. They received their food, and Stephen savored his with such intensity that Jon was pretty sure Stephen hadn't been kidding about Evie.

It would, Jon thought, be simple, the easiest thing ever to just let the evening slide by without mentioning anything of note other than Jon's worries about the current economic crisis or enthusiastic talk about his children's latest exploits. It was a nice evening, an unexpected, but pleasurable outing, and there was no reason to make it awkward.

"So what is it?" Stephen asked.

"What is what?" Jon asked.

"You're doing your pensive storm cloud face," Stephen said, making his own exaggerated version of the expression at Jon.

There were any number of diversions Jon could have gone with, jokes he could have told, but when it came down to it, Jon knew that this was _Stephen_. He was one of the most understanding, big-hearted people Jon knew.

It couldn't possibly be awkward.

"I kind of, uh, realized I may be bisexual a few days ago," Jon said blunt and fast, like ripping off duct tape.

"I was there," Stephen said, grinning. "My kisses are like sweet, sweet candy. No one can resist."

Jon had forgotten. This was _Stephen_. Of course he had to prove Jon wrong.

Jon cleared his throat and fidgeted with his linen napkin. It worked better than any sort of protestations that he wasn't actually kidding.

"Holy shit, you're serious." Stephen put down his fork and said, "Fuck, I'm sorry, I--I mean, I'm not _sorry_, but--" Stephen smiled with rueful bemusement. "You know what I mean. I'm an ass."

"We're comedians," Jon said. "It's what we do."

"True enough," Stephen said. Then, "You know, I won't be offended or weirded out. You can tell me if--" Stephen waggled his eyebrows.

Jon laughed and threw his napkin at Stephen's face. "That's right, Stephen, I realized with that one kiss I'm madly in love with you. Take me. Take me now, right over this table."

"I always knew you were an exhibitionist." More soberly, Stephen asked, "Did you want to talk about it? Is it--are things okay with Tracey?"

"Tracey and I are fine," Jon said and smiled, because really, things were more than fine on the spousal front.

"So what's the problem?"

"Who says there's a problem?"

"Pensive storm cloud face," Stephen said.

Jon laughed. "I'd really rather not go into it."

"Okay," Stephen said. "But seriously, Jon. If you ever need to, I'm here to talk."

"Thanks," Jon said finally. "I appreciate it. It's--don't take this the wrong way, but it's sweet."

"Sweet like my candy kisses," Stephen said, and it was Jon's turn to kick Stephen under the table.

At the end of dinner, Stephen stole the bill, but took home his left-overs after all. "Sometimes Evie likes to cheat, too," Stephen confided.

"If it works," Jon said.

Stephen grinned. "It does. It really, really does."

\--

Jon decided to sit on it a while, become comfortable in his own thoughts again.

Tracey made a semi-serious offer to go people-watch with Jon as he worked through his revelations of attraction, but Jon declined. "I think jealousy might be an issue," he said.

"Jon, we're married, but that doesn't mean you're not allowed to _look_. It might be good for you. I promise, I won't be jealous."

"Who said anything about you being jealous?" Jon slung an arm around Tracey's shoulder. "You know how possessive I am. I don't want anyone to get hurt because I was overcome by a jealous rage."

"Oh, yes," Tracey said, her dry tone at odds with her leaning warmly into Jon. "You are a fierce and mighty warrior."

It was a good idea, but--but Jon wasn't that comfortable yet. It still felt like new clothes, stiff and itching against his skin. Jon was, in truth, almost afraid to look. It had nothing to do with Tracey--sure, Jon now knew he liked men, but he also liked other women, and none of that really mattered in a romantic sense, because Jon was very happily unavailable. It was just--

Jon wasn't ready.

\--

It took a few weeks.

Jon didn't manage to become comfortable, but he did adjust. In all practicalities, nothing had changed. Fox News and the random, casual bigotry of some of the people he came across still frustrated and infuriated him, and the sting he'd felt all along remained. He just knew why it felt so personal now.

And that, that right there, was why Jon, no matter how he'd acclimated to the idea, was at best hesitant to come out in any sort of public manner.

It shouldn't have mattered that it was personal. It shouldn't have mattered that Jon was both bisexual _and_ a proponent of gay rights. Jon was already married, and even that didn't matter, because it was a matter of, of _humanity_, of the supposed American standard of equality and openness.

Jon came out to a few other close friends, but for the rest of the world--well. He would be honest if asked directly, but it wasn't something that ought to impact his credibility in any sort of just world (though in any sort of just world it wouldn't have been an issue at all), so for the most part, Jon had no intention of letting on at all.

If this left an unpleasant taste in Jon's mouth, weighed heavily in the back of his gut, it wasn't like Jon was unfamiliar with the feeling already. Jon had survived eight years of George fucking W. Bush.

\--

"This is a kidnapping," Stephen said. "Come with me if you want to live."

Jon laughed. "I think you're mixing up your roles there."

"I am a benevolent kidnapper," Stephen said. "I come in peace."

Jon laughed again. "What sort of strange movie are you starring in?"

"You are the star," Stephen said. "I'm just the convenient foil."

"The world does revolve around me," Jon said in an agreeable voice, setting his computer to turn off and grabbing his coat.

"At least for a night," Stephen said. "Then Galileo will have his day."

They went to the steak place again, and Stephen said, "You're paying this time."

"Isn't it my night?" Jon asked.

"Your night to pay." Stephen ordered water for himself and the house wine for Jon.

"Seriously, this is starting to feel a lot like a really creepy date," Jon said when it arrived.

"I'm liquoring you up to take advantage of you," Stephen deadpanned. After a moment, in an awkward, gentle tone, Stephen said, "I thought you might need it."

Jon couldn't help but smile. Tracey fed Jon up, but Stephen's solution was poorly humored alcohol.

"It won't make you any funnier," Jon said, taking a sip. It was dry, but sweet.

"A good thing," Stephen said. "I heard that if I became any more hilarious, either the world would instantly end, ushering in a new Heaven on Earth, or the listener's head would explode. Personally, I think the second sounds a lot cooler."

"Been trawling your own forums again?" Jon asked.

"You know me." Stephen grinned. "I like to lurk."

"Is that, uh--" Jon asked, thrown off beat.

"It's not innuendo," Stephen said. Less seriously, "Unless you'd like it to be." Stephen threw in a leer.

"I don't know your plans," Jon said, "but the alcohol really isn't helping."

It kind of was, though, as it kicked in. On an intellectual level, Jon knew that it was a relaxant, but that didn't stop it from working. Jon felt his shoulder muscles loosen, and it felt like he'd lost a few stones from his shoulders by the time he'd finished the second glass Stephen had ordered him.

Their conversation meandered along whatever paths Jon started down. Stephen just rolled with it, gamely following whatever topic Jon chose. Stephen didn't seem to be trying for subtlety. Jon was almost tempted to push it, see what it would take for Stephen to finally balk and break away.

But unsubtle as Stephen may have been, he was Jon's friend, and being a damn good one at that. Besides, Jon was pretty sure that in a game of conversation chicken, Stephen would win.

"So," Jon said, staring pointedly around the restaurant once again. "Anything particular you had in mind?"

"Tonight's about you," Stephen said firmly.

"I'm not letting you in my pants," Jon said dryly.

Stephen didn't play along, just patiently staring Jon down.

"I thought you said that you were here to talk if I needed you."

"I did," Stephen said, "and you do."

Jon sighed. "It's not--" He pinched the bridge of his nose.

"If not to me, then someone," Stephen said. "Office gossip has reached _my_ studio that you punched a wall over the NOM thing."

"Knew it was a bad idea to not have all the interns sign non-disclosure agreements," Jon said.

"You really should learn from my megalomaniacal example," Stephen agreed. Then, softly, "What about Tracey?"

"I already know Tracey will support whatever I decide." Jon fiddled with his fork, pushing a slice of steak through its congealing puddle of juice.

"And what are you deciding?" Stephen asked.

"That I have no idea whether I want to be Rachel Maddow or Anderson Cooper," Jon said.

"You'll never be that pretty," Stephen said promptly, "and you'd make an ugly girl."

Jon laughed despite himself.

"You're looking at this all wrong," Stephen said, leaning forward and jabbing his own fork at Jon emphatically. "You're _you_. How they did or didn't quite come out doesn't matter." When Jon didn't immediately say anything, Stephen smiled and said, "Be true to yourself, yadda yadda. But I can't really speak on the issue."

"I think you just did," Jon said.

"Yeah, well, none of us like watching you beat yourself up," Stephen said. "You take all the fun out of schadenfreude."

"And if I did," Jon said. "Come out. What would--?"

"I'm sure you would handle it with your usual inimitable grace," Stephen said.

"So with genital jokes and self-deprecating humor."

Stephen grinned. "Pretty much business as usual."

\--

Jon was, to put it bluntly, kind of chickenshit, so he didn't cobble up a quick game plan. He intended to given himself time to plan it out, acclimate himself to the idea of being out in a major way. It had taken him weeks to be used to being out with himself, so he thought a few months (years) would be necessary for the rest of the world.

He had a magazine interview, and they mostly talked about politics, the current economy, and how Jon was now fanboying Elizabeth Warren. The increasing states' legalization of gay marriage briefly came up, but Jon hesitated, and the moment was lost.

His show was, frankly, the best and worst possible solution. All the relief of being out, and all the frustration of no one believing him! Jon wasn't ready, but when he was, it wasn't the most tenable of platforms.

Then he had one of his rare live interviews and it just--slipped out, like a live grenade tumbling out of his fingers and cleaving lazily through the air to smack into his host's shocked face.

"But this country _isn't_ comprised entirely of straight, pasty white, ultra-religious Christians," Jon said, and he'd meant to be at least a little funny, but he couldn't help himself. Only a few months of frustration (or, looked at more broadly, a lifetime), and he was ready to boil over. "I mean, I'm a secular, bisexual Jew, and I'm pretty damn sure I live here, too."

Jon couldn't decide if he was more relieved that said host was Rachel Maddow, who quickly recovered, or disappointed that it hadn't hit a target more worthy of surprise explosives.

"Yes," Rachel agreed. She grinned. "Even secular bisexuals are deserving of equal citizen status."

After the show, Rachel pulled him aside and said, "Sorry about--" She waved her hands in a way that was probably meant to indicate her previous surprise on air. "I didn't know."

"Yeah, about that," Jon said. He'd been given a ballpoint pen to play with on air (Rachel's were the same cheap Bic pens as on _The Daily Show_), and he spun it in his fingers now. "I hadn't exactly told too many people."

Rachel smiled. "I hate to break this to you, Jon," Rachel said, "but our close personal talk was shared with a few million other people."

"I like to start small," Jon said. "I'm working my way up to the internet."

"I'm thinking some of your secret-keepers might get there first."

\--

They had.

Jon checked his palm pilot once home to see fifteen messages from his agent and one from Stephen. Stephen's simply linked to Jon's Wikipedia, changed to reflect both the accurate information that Jon had come out as bisexual on _The Rachel Maddow Show_ and the utter fabrication that he was going to marry one Stephen Colbert in a fabulous Boston wedding.

"I would just like to say," Stephen wrote after the link, "that for once, I had nothing to do with it."

"You only wish you'd gotten there first," Jon sent back, then went inside.

Tracey was sitting up with Nate, still, and she turned to Jon with an encouraging smile.

"Oh," Jon said, because he hadn't really thought about Nate seeing it.

"I'm letting you explain this," Tracey said.

"I thought we'd agree we would explain it together," Jon said. "At some . . . later point."

"This _is_ a later point," Tracey said, picking Nate up and handing him off to Jon, "and that's not the talk you're going to have."

"What's secular?" Nate asked, staring up at Jon with all the patience of a child who'd repeated the question countless times already and was willing to continue it to death or dancing dinosaurs if that's what it would take. "And why would God hate them?"

Jon laughed, hugging Nate close.

"That's, uh, that's a matter of some argument," Jon said. "But, well, Daddy believes--"

The next religious Talk would be Tracey's, and she could say whatever she wanted about Catholicism, Jon decided, so long as he never again had to desperately search for an acceptable alternative to the words, "Daddy doesn't necessarily believe in God."

As uncomfortable as the following conversation was, it was kind of comforting, business as usual.

\--


End file.
